Bereft
by In Pieces
Summary: "I'm no hero." The Winter Soldier remarked. She snorted and eyed him in a way that seemed critical. "Not with that attitude."


Freedom wasn't something the Winter Soldier was used to.

He felt misplaced in a city he vaguely remembered and was entirely foreign to him at the same time. As he walked across the heavily crowded roads thanks to Hydras handiwork and the overpopulation of New York, flashes of images came back to him that came and went far too quickly for him to understand.

Step. Flash. Sounds of clashing metal and huffing.

Step. Frown. Flash. A skinny man lying on the ground with blood on his lips and someone else with a fist raised.

He stopped and turned his head towards the empty alley on his right. There was nothing there but dumpsters, ripped black plastic bags with rotten food spilling out and a few stray dogs eating the foul leftovers.

A man bumped into his shoulder and made an apologetic hand motion and he held his cellphone tightly against his ear with the other.

Frown. Flash. His hands shoving a man and kicking his retreating back.

The Winter Soldier clenched his fists and continued walking, leaving the alley behind. There was something on his mind that remembered the word Brooklyn with a sense of ease; perhaps it was a product of the memorial he'd seen at the Smithsonian or a small part of his old self awakening gradually.

The Smithsonian memorial could've been a lie. Did all that history belong to him? All the achievements and heroic death that lead to nothing but a humanized weapon without a sense of remorse or reason was truly his?

Maybe, he mused, he was so accustomed to lies that he couldn't tell what was right anymore.

He wandered off until he caught sight of Prospect Park and, without hesitation, roamed the square. A part of him desired that somehow, the crowded place full of people sunbathing on towels on the grass roused something, _anything_ on his mind. Even a childhood memory would suffice at that point.  
Anything was better than feeling blank and hollow.

Feeling in no mood to be surrounded by sweating strangers, he walked further into the park until he found an uncomfortable wooden bench that faced a bronze sculpture of children playing in a sort of pipe and sat down, observing joggers passing by in semi hurry or little kids running around and screaming.

"Hi!" The cheerful voice that captured his attention belonged to a little girl in a polka dotted dress that decided to take a seat uncomfortably close to him. "My name is Andrea, what's yours?"

"Why do you want to know?" He retorted as he felt his eyebrows furrow in distrust as he inched away from her. As far as he knew, HYDRA wasn't known for leaving loose ends and, at the time, one of their most powerful weapons was an asset gone foul that needed to return to its roots. He wouldn't be surprised if a child was used as a sort of bait to lure him to a trap, it was something he was sure they would come to if needed.

"Because you're my friend now and I need to know your name." The blonde child replied in a tone that made him believe that her question had been far too obvious. He quickly came to the realization that the girl wasn't part of HYDRA's probably nonexistent scheme. She was just a bother.

"My name is James." He replied. His visit to the Smithsonian provided a small piece of clarity on his mind and the fleeting thought that, perhaps, repetition was the only way he could grasp the facts that came and go and possibly paint a full picture he could understand, not only nonsensical images and sounds. And the first step began with his name.

The girl nodded and took out of one the side pockets of her ridiculous red and white dress a small clear plastic bag with an assortment of colorful dime-sized candies. She placed a purple one on her mouth and wrinkled her face as she chewed. "They taste like lemon on the inside and sugar on the outside. Do you like sour things?"

"I don't know." James answered honestly, earning a frown from the girl.

"How can you not know?" She shrieked in a higher pitch than her normal voice, grabbed one of the little candies that, thanks to her screaming and loud chewing he found out it was actually bubblegum, and placed it on top of his hand. "Blue because you're a boy." She stated.

He examined carefully the candy on his hand and pressed it between his fingers, squashing it slightly and making clear grains of what looked remarkably like sugar spill out of the colorful thing.

"Don't do that, eat it!" The girl scowled.

Something reacted deep inside of him by her commanding tone, making him clench his fists and his jaw almost instinctually. He glanced at her fleetingly to remember that no, he wasn't in a HYDRA base, and the girl was a child, not a scientist or an officer, just a girl trying to share something of hers. He raised a hesitant hand up to his lips to place the candy inside his mouth. It had an odd taste to it; at first it was far too sweet, like he'd placed a teaspoon of sugar on his mouth but the taste was quickly overpowered by the sour crystals that tasted far too tangy. Andrea started to laugh, presumably because of the frown appearing on his face.

"Do you want another one?" Andrea asked as she shoved another piece of bubblegum on her mouth, biting in and squirting saliva as she did so.

"No." Slowly, he took the sticky candy out of his mouth and tossed it to the floor beside the bench. The girl shrugged off the action and leaned so close to him that he could smell her sugary breath and see how some colorful red substance had dried up on the corners of her mouth.

"Why are you alone?" The girl suddenly inquired as she, finally, backed off and sat as far as he could from him to repose her forearm of the bench's metal armrest.

"I want to be alone." He replied bitterly, hoping that his response would get rid of the little pester beside him. Children were far too sensible compared to adults.

"What for?" He concluded that the child just didn't care about anything he could possible say to dispose of her company.

"To think."

"About what?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?" Usually, if he broke eye contact it meant he didn't want to continue with the established conversation, but the child ignored his subtle actions. He turned towards her, feeling the muscles of his face contract in a scowl when he noticed Andrea's awestruck expression as she stared at his arm.

"My uncle Michael has one of those too," The child explained and stretched her hand towards his forearm to poke the metal of his wrist. "But his is ugly and skinny and he uses a glove that looks like skin to cover it up, it feels funny."

James tugged the sleeve of his jacket to cover up the metal and crossed his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, it's pretty cool to have a metal arm. I wish I had one."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I do!" Andrea retorted and, once again, scooted closer to him. "If I had a metal arm I would become a superhero, like Iron man but in a girl form. You can be…Iron arm."

"I'm no hero."

She snorted and eyed him in a way that seemed critical. "Not with that attitude."

"Andrea!" He and the girl turned to see a blonde woman with a bitter expression running towards them. The child didn't seem concerned by her fumbling state. "I've been looking for you everywhere and was this close to call the police," She made a little notion with her index and thumb to prove her point. Her expression softened slightly when she acknowledged his presence. "I hope she didn't bother you."

James merely shook his head, earning a small smile from the woman.

"Let's go; say goodbye to the man." The woman ushered.

"His name is James, Emma." Andrea crossed her arms as she jumped off the bench.

"Don't be disrespectful, I'm your mother." Emma whispered, but her point failed as James could listen clearly to her words. "I'm really sorry." She tried to make amends on her kid's lousy behavior with a small smile, but he didn't care at all. If anything, he found it slightly odd.

"Bye, James!" The girl screamed and waved as she tried to keep up with her mother's pace, ignoring her scolding about talking with strangers.

Flash. Frown. The guy from the bridge waving from a window in a two story apartment complex.

James waved back blankly.

* * *

Disclaimer: Captain America and its characters belong to Marvel.


End file.
